Had
by Empathist
Summary: This story will look at the time when Ste scammed Brendan out of the money for the deli in June 2012. It begins a couple of months earlier, and is told from both Brendan's and Ste's points of view.
1. Chapter 1

_Ste_

He's always hanging around with that Joel, the one that's meant to be Warren's son. Or Joel's always hanging around with him, more like – with Brendan. I don't get it.

We saw them in the street, me and Doug did. They were talking, and Brendan was right up close to Joel, and I kept walking, ignored them because I couldn't let... But Doug shouted out something, _Get a room_, and I wish he hadn't cos that's what I was thinking. I mean, Joel's straight, right? But then, so was I until Brendan showed me that I wasn't.

It's obvious, innit? What else would Brendan want him for, even if Joel hasn't worked it out yet? He'll be working on him, like he did with me, and sooner or later there'll be a situation, and Brendan will look at him like he looked at me, and Joel's gonna be blinded by him so all he can see is Brendan, and that will be it.

None of my business though.

I ran into him again that day, Brendan. Basically, he knows me and Doug are trying to do something with my cooking, make a bit of money for ourselves, and Brendan's just dying for it to go tits-up before we've even got anything going. He said he isn't, but he is: it was him that put me out of work in the first place, so he's not gonna be wanting me to be a success, is he. No way. He said something funny, though. If I needed a shoulder to cry on, he said, _I'm your man._

Why would I need him, though?

He got his wish anyway. This pizza thing I was trying to do with Dougie, it went wrong before it hardly started, but then something Darren said got me thinking. Dunno why Darren was even bothering with me, it's not like we're even proper mates or anything, but he came up to me and, well, he must've realised I was upset because he was dead nice, and he said my kids believed in me even if no one else did. And he was right, I can't just give up, not if I want to make Leah and Lucas proud of me. So I had this idea. There's this empty shop in the village, just over the road from... my old work, and I thought of what me and Doug could make out of it if we tried hard enough. I believed it so much that I made him believe it too. He's alright, Doug, when you get to know him. I haven't got many mates, me – not the kind you can really talk to – so it's nice that I've sort of got one now. All I had before was Amy, so sometimes I feel a bit... a bit lonely, I suppose.

It was only an idea, a dream, this New York-style deli we were gonna open, but it still felt like we had something to celebrate, so I went to Price Slice to get us some wine. And then Joel came in and started giving it the big man act about what I was buying. Course it was a cheap one, I'm skint aren't I? I'd had enough of him, and I told him Brendan obviously didn't want him for his brains, and I said everyone was laughing at him for being Brendan's mini-me, and then he shoved me. I lost my balance and fell over, and the bottle smashed all over the floor.

I reckon I touched a nerve.

* * *

_Brendan_

I saw them, just happened to glance into Price Slice as I was passing. Fuck knows what they were talking about: me, probably. Anyways, it kicked off and Steven ended up on the floor. I walked away.

It played on my mind though. I couldn't be having that. Joel, he knows me and Steven used to be... he knows it used to be me and Steven. And he's showing the signs of jealousy, like he thinks he's got a right to get in between me and whoever happens to be around. I had to set him straight, so I waited for him to come upstairs in the club.

He was pleased with himself, seemed to think I'd be impressed with what he'd done.

I opened a bottle of Champagne. I was gonna spray him with it, let him know it's me that decides who he goes after. Bit of a waste, but it wasn't the good stuff. So I did it, soaked the kid, and then the next thing I knew I was hanging him over the stairwell, telling him I'll kill him if he ever touches a hair of Steven's head again.

Jesus.

Okay, so I got a grip, let him go, started to walk away, then he made some crack at me. _Touched a nerve, did I?_ he said. _Ste can't even stand you – when you gonna realise that?_

I went into the office, slammed the door, had to sit down.

See, I thought it had finally gone. I thought I'd buried it, because burying things is what I do. I thought the feelings I'd had and never wanted, I thought they were safely out of the way, with a thick clay of hurt and hate between them and the surface, and no air getting through to give them life. I thought the thing that had made me think for one moment on one summer's day that I could be a different man – I thought that thing was dealt with, ashes into the dirt, so it couldn't come back to haunt me.

I thought wrong.

* * *

_Ste_

Talk about bad timing. There I was, shirt and jacket and tie on, ready to go and see the bank manager and ask for a loan, but no trousers on cos I was ironing them, wasn't I, last minute like. And then Brendan walks in, courtesy of Doug not stopping him.

I could feel him looking at me before I even saw him, like I've got a radar or something, and then he said, _Takes me back_, and I knew he was thinking of all the times he's seen me – all the ways he's seen me – half-dressed, undressed, on a plate for him. And in that couple of seconds I was thinking about it too, because that's what happens: he comes into a room, and everything sort of shifts around a bit, and I'm not my own person any more, I'm only part of a person because he's got the other part.

I shook it off and concentrated, counted in my head like they make you do in anger management, even though I wasn't angry. I just had to get a hold of myself.

Dougie blabbed about what we were doing – the bank manager thing – and I could've killed him. Brendan stores things up, see, so he can use them, and he's got enough stored up about me already. It was funny though, like that thing he said before about giving me a shoulder to cry on: he said I could've asked him for the money.

I couldn't even start thinking about if he meant it, or what he was after if he did. I told him I didn't want anything off him, ever. End of.

The weirdest thing was what he said he'd come round for. He said he knew what had happened with Joel in the shop, and he wanted to make sure I was alright. I didn't have time to think about it then, I just wanted rid cos I was stressed out enough about the bank thing without trying to work Brendan out. He does my head in.

I woke up thinking about it in the middle of the night though. About him. He'd looked as if he meant it, about seeing if I was alright. Sounded like he meant it too, you know, _concerned_. I'd tried not to look at him much when he was stood there in front of me; I just concentrated on ironing them bloody trousers and trying not to blush about having me legs out. But I ended up glancing at him, and when he said he was going, he looked... awkward, I suppose. Like an overgrown kid. He looked _vulnerable._

But he's not, right? I'm not gonna start giving him the benefit, because for one thing, I bet he sent Joel after me in the first place. Wouldn't put it past him. And for another thing, I can't go back there. I can't. I mean, we've both done bad things, and I should never of believed it was him that killed Rae, because he's a lot of things but he's not a... he's not that kind of a murderer. But he hasn't stopped hurting me. I'm skint because of him. My kids go without, because of him. I'm shit-scared of finding anyone new, because of him. It's because of him that I laid curled into a ball in my bed one night a few months ago, because my stomach hurt if I tried to lie flat, because he'd slammed his fist into my gut instead of talking to me.

There's this thing that happens inside me when he's near me, though. It's like it pushes up from my belly to my chest, and it squeezes my heart; and I can't let it, because I can't chance it. I've got to listen to what my head tells me. I can't love him again.

* * *

_Brendan_

No harm in going round there, was there? I wasn't gonna try and... Course I wasn't. I ain't stupid. Too much water under the fucking bridge, I know that. But I needed to check that he was okay, after Joel's little display. That's all.

Douglas was there when I got there. Fuck. Still, glad he was, in a way, because he let slip that they're trying to go into business, the pair of them, but properly this time, not just arsing around in somebody else's kitchen. Interesting.

I offered Steven the money. Whatever he needs: I meant it. I know times are hard for him, and he's got kids to bring up and no money to do it on. I know what it's like, I've been there. And I know it's my fault he ain't got two pennies. I thought about offering him his old job back, but I could guess what he'd say, I could imagine the set of his jaw, and his bottom lip sticking out like he thinks he looks tough, and all I could think about was opening my mouth over his.

Him having his own business, me investing in it – that's better, isn't it? He'd be independent, making something of his own, and I'd be... helping him out.

Soon as the idea was thought of, he shot it down. Course he did. He's proud, I get that.

I walked away. Not much option. But Jesus, being there again in that flat, it took me back. The sight of him, boxers on; socks. Took me right back.

That was where I had him, the first time, and that was the memory that kept me awake that night – remembering that first time, thinking about how it was, in that shabby flat, in his bed.

I needed it to be right, that first time with Steven. I knew he'd never been fucked before – he'd had sex, of course, but not properly, you know? Not with a man – I'd found that out, coaxed it out of him cos I needed to know. And the only time I'd ever had a lad who was a virgin before, it was... I didn't want it to be like that again.

That was a few years ago now. Vinnie – Vincent – was eighteen when I hired him, nineteen when I took him to bed. Old enough, but still a kid in some ways. Naive as you like, he was; never even been kissed before I kissed him, I don't think, but he knew what was happening. Christ, I even got him to go and buy the lube, so. And he was ready. I looked after him, got him going, got him open with my fingers and he liked it, he was up for it. I even looked him in the eyes and asked him, so I was one hundred per cent, _This okay?_ And he nodded his head.

I guess it just wasn't what he expected when it came to it: I guess the reality was too much, and Vincent freaked out, and I stopped and got off him. Because that's what you do, when you've got a lad spread out underneath you, and he says no. You stop. If he's new, brand new, and he don't like it, you stop. If he struggles, or if he freezes, you stop. If you see in his eyes anything that isn't wanting you, you stop. If he panics, you stop. If he cries... if he _cries_, you stop. You put aside what you wanted from him, and you stop, and you let him be.

He said he was sorry. Fucking hell, all the poor little bastard had done was lose his nerve, but I guess when you're a kid you think the one with the power must know best, so you blame yourself. I just shushed Vincent, held onto him til he calmed down; then I put him in a cab home.

I didn't try it on with him again for weeks after that. We messed around, sure we did. He got used to me, used to the idea, and maybe a month later we did it, and by that time he was pretty much begging for it, and it was always fine after that.

Steven was older, coming up to twenty-one and a hell of a lot more worldly, but even so, it's a big thing. So to speak.

I knew he'd be willing – I did a thing or two with him the week before, in the cellar in the club. Salubrious, I know. The way he kissed me back, for a start: you can tell a lot from that. He was hungry, curious. Soon as I'd pulled his Chez Chez T-shirt off him he was unbuttoning my shirt, the horny little fucker, and he didn't stop me when I unzipped him. I slid a hand down the back of his pants and fingered him, and he stopped me then. _No, Brendan, w__hat you doing?_ Good question, Steven. I hadn't expected I'd get inside him, not that day, but you know, worth a try. So instead I sat him up among the crates of beer and I sucked him off. Didn't take long, he was over-excited. His eyes were like saucers.

He tried to return the favour, down on his knees. It wasn't easy for him but he gave it a go, and he was gonna be a fast learner, it was obvious. I remember finding a cloth and wiping his chin, and kissing him again.

So when it was time, when I went to that slum of a flat, and we crossed the line from me playing with his mind, to me and him both wanting the same thing, there was nothing that would hold him back. Still, I took my time, you know, to make sure. There wasn't a bit of him I didn't get my hands on, or my mouth. I stroked him, felt the bones and muscles under his skin. My lips felt the pulses in his throat and his wrists and the hollows of his groin. My tongue counted his vertebrae. I bit hard onto the tattoo on his hip, and lightly on his clavicle; and down his shin bones, where the brown hairs darkened with spit; and into the soft flesh on the insides of his thighs. I kissed the cheeks of his arse, and I rimmed him, and he twisted and giggled. Yeah, _giggled_: my moustache tickled, he said.

And then I turned him onto his back again, and I watched his face as I pushed my fingers into his hole, and Jesus, he was ready, but I asked him anyway.

I didn't know it could be like that. All the men I've had, and I didn't know it could be like a dream, where you can't tell where you end and he begins, and you feel what he's feeling, and what he's feeling is the same as you.

He cried out at first, _Oh, fuck._ I guess it hurt, but then he grabbed my head and pulled me down to kiss him, and I was swallowing the noises he made, and his legs were clamped around me like he couldn't get me close enough.

That's what it made me remember, seeing him in his flat again, stood at the ironing board in his boxers and socks. It made me remember what it felt like when he wanted me.


	2. Chapter 2

_Brendan_

So they didn't get that bank loan they were after. I found that out when I was in the Dog having a pint, and the pair of them walked in, Steven and Douglas. They were still in their suits from their meeting: Steven looked nothing like the boy I met the year before last. Nothing like him, and exactly like him.

When they told me they hadn't got the money, I said I was sorry to hear it, and I was, but Steven didn't believe me. Course he didn't. _I might not be making something of my life, but at least I'm not you, Brendan. _He spat the words out like he hated me, then he told Douglas to get him a beer and stalked off like he couldn't stand to breathe the same air as me.

I'd have bought him a drink; but he wanted Douglas's, not mine.

I think Douglas felt sorry for me. Jesus. _He's just disappointed,_ he said, _We both are, _as if that was the reason Steven couldn't abide me. I don't know why I didn't tell him to fuck right off with his pity, but I didn't, I listened to myself being honest for once. _Even when I'm genuine he doesn't believe me... I only want the best for him._ I dunno, maybe I thought Douglas would put in a word, because they're friends, right? They're _mates._

Maybe Douglas was my way in. I told him again, like I'd told Steven at his flat in the morning, I could lend them the money to get them started. I could see the Yank was tempted – this was Douglas, after all, and when did Douglas ever turn down the offer of money? When did he ever say no to me? Only this time, he did. _Ste wouldn't take your money._ Acquiring a backbone at last, Dougie boy? Cos I have to say, this loyalty to Steven's wishes was a surprising turn of events.

I told him Steven didn't have to know. I worked on him, his selfish side. Self-interested is maybe a nicer way of putting it. Not much nicer, but... It's the side I know what to do with. _What do you want, Douglas? Don't you want to make something of yourself? _I could see him wavering before he picked up the beers, his and Steven's, and went off to sit with his mate.

:::::::

I didn't see Steven around the next day. I know what he's like when he's unhappy, when he's been let down, when he's had one kick too many: he goes into himself, lies low. I thought about going round to his place, see if he was there, but I guessed I was the last person he'd be wanting to see. Not that I usually let that stop me, but I didn't feel like seeing him look at me like he does these days. It gets to you after a while, okay?

Saw Douglas though, I did, a couple of times. First time, we locked eyes but he walked away and I let him. Let him stew. Next time, I made a move. He was peering into the window of the shop they'd set their hearts on, and I went up and spoke to him. They hadn't given up hope, apparently: at least according to Douglas the dream was alive. I thought he meant he was considering my offer, but no. _Ste isn't interested._ Yeah, I got that by now. I said to him, _Steven doesn't have to know._ Am I a stuck record or what? And then Douglas said, _I'm not gonna lie to him._

We'll see about that. Seems to me, Douglas never worried about lying to his mates in the past, not when I got him robbing their flat for me; not when I had him dealing under their noses; not when I used him to set Rae up with enough of the white stuff to get her put away for years. He seemed to be sticking to his guns this time though. What's so different about Steven? What's setting him apart from the other friends, the ones that Douglas would betray in a heartbeat? I mean, I know what's different about Steven for me: for me, he's under my skin and in my head and in my dreams every fucking day and night. But what's in it for Douglas, why's he so keen to do right by him?

He'll come around though, the Yank. He'll come for the money in the end, because he can't resist. That's the thing about Douglas: he's weak. He vacillates. All I've got to do is wait for the wind to change.

* * *

_Ste_

It's my fault we didn't get the loan. It would be, wouldn't it – when does anything ever go right when I get involved? I had to open my big mouth and tell that bank manager about my record. You know, my criminal record, the same thing that stopped me from going to America with Amy and our kids and ruined her future as well as mine. The same thing that stops me getting all the jobs I apply for. I'll say one thing for Brendan, he didn't let it bother him when he gave me a job, he just saw that I had potential and took a chance on me. I mean, I know I sort of blackmailed him a bit too, but he didn't have to cave in, did he? I mean, he's Brendan Brady.

So anyway, after I said to the bank bloke about my record, it was like I couldn't stop myself, I just made it worse and worse, I said our business couldn't fail cos we could sell any old crap to the drunks rocking out of Chez Chez at closing time. That's the actual word I said: _crap._ I could die, just thinking about it. Doug was really nice about it after, which made me feel even worse. It was his dream as much as mine, and I blew it for both of us.

We met up again later and went for a drink in the Dog. First person we saw when we got there was Brendan, and I knew he'd be loving it, finding out that I was still a loser. He tried to say I'd got him all wrong, and to be honest he didn't look like he was glad, but I wasn't in the mood so I had a go at him. I think it was more like I was angry with myself, only Brendan was right there, and it was just easier to be angry with him. I mean, I've had enough practice, innt I? I'm always bloody angry with him.

I went and sat down, and Dougie brought our drinks over after a couple of minutes. I asked him what Brendan said to him after I walked off, and he said it was nothing.

It was alright, talking to Doug, and we forgot about the bank and the business, and we just chatted about, I dunno, other stuff. He told me about some of the places he's been. I knew he's been to Thailand, cos that's where him and Bex had their big romance thing, but he's been to other places too, loads. America, obviously. When he talked about it, it made me think of things off the telly, you know, films and that. New York. I never really felt like it was a real place, but the way he talked about it, he made it sound real. He knows the names of the streets and the shops, and he's been to that Central Park lots of times. He's younger than me but he's done more, and he's dead brainy, dead _sophisticated_, you can tell by the way he says things. I felt sort of happy that he's bothering with me, cos I'm just... well, I've never been anywhere, me, except that one time I took the kids to Disney, and that was only cos I was running away.

I saw him again the next day. We were still feeling down, both of us, but we sort of decided we weren't gonna give up. Doug started to say we could see if Brendan was serious about lending us the money, but I stopped him dead, cos there's no way I'm letting Brendan have a hold over us. Doug stuck up for him, I don't know why. I know he's worked for Brendan before, so maybe he thinks he can handle him, trust him if it's sort of business arrangements; but it wouldn't be just business for me though, would it, at least not in Brendan's way of thinking. It's always personal between me and him.

_Maybe he feels like he owes you,_ is what Doug said. _Prison might have given him time to think. _Yeah, well, he's got a funny way of showing it. Sacking me and battering me doesn't make me think prison changed him for the better. I told Doug I'd rather fail by myself than owe Brendan, and he must've got the message cos then he said he was gonna make some calls and see if he could fix up some meetings with other banks. Nothing to lose, anyway.

I felt better for a bit, til Tony told me he's gonna put in an offer for the shop, just when me and Doug had decided we were gonna go for it again. I was well pissed off, and then he said we could go and work for him when he's bought our shop. I nearly told him where he can stick his job. It's like I can't be happy, I can't let myself, cos five minutes later something's gonna go wrong again. Amy was dead nice though, dead supportive when I told her what Tony said. She reckoned we'd never know if we could do it if we didn't try. And the next thing that happens? Dougie texts me to say he's got some news. I thought he was gonna say he's got us another meeting with another bank manager, but when he got to the cafe, first thing he said was he's got us the money. He didn't say how – Riley walked in, and Doug went to talk to him, and me and Amy just sat there grinning at each other like idiots.

You know that thing about being happy for five minutes?

I thought it was funny that Doug just disappeared, and I had a bad feeling, and I went looking for him and when I found him it was obvious. I said to him, _You didn't get the money, did you?_ And I was right. It weren't his fault, he tried his best. I told him Tony was after the shop now, and he was probably gonna make a higher bid so we wouldn't of got it anyway. And then Dougie says he's still gonna get us the money, he's just waiting for a phone call from his auntie in America or something, and she might want to invest in us.

I was glad, but I was just waiting for the next knockback. I even went to see Tony and asked him to pull out and let us win, cos I know what's gonna happen: we'll finally get the money, and we won't get the shop. I thought Tony might understand that I just need a chance. He was the one that gave me a job before, when nobody else would touch me with a bargepole. I know I fucked up in the end, but he knows I've changed, and I just thought he would think me and Doug deserve a break. He didn't, though._ The bank did turn you down for a reason_, he said. Bastard. I lost it, I yelled at him about his brother burning his restaurant down for the insurance money. Like Tony's whiter than white. He's a smug bastard.

So I broke into his flat.

Well, I didn't even break in though really, cos I still had the keys from when Doug and me were cooking in his kitchen before he chucked us out. So I let myself in. I wasn't nicking anything, I was just looking for something. I didn't know if he had anything, you know, written down about how much he was planning on bidding for the shop, but if he did, I was gonna find it, so we'd know and we'd stand a chance.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Brendan walked in.

_Lucky it was me_, he said, and it was true, what if someone else had followed me up and found me in there? Anyone else, and I might've been in trouble – like proper trouble, police sort of trouble – but at least I know Brendan would never call the police on me, not in a million years. I still tried lying to him though. I said I'd only come to give Tony his keys back, and Brendan didn't believe a word of it. If I was ever gonna lie to him about something big, I'd have to do better than that, I'd have to be clever like him.

He was being all sort of calm and superior, and nicking grapes like he had the right, and it got on my nerves so I said something horrible to him about when Warren kept getting him beat up in prison. I wanted to... not hurt him, just make him _feel_ something. But then I sort of gave up and I told him what I was looking for in the flat, and he said I couldn't win without him, and I said I didn't want no handouts from him, and I told him he's only happy if he's interfering, infecting people's lives. And then... and then he started telling me about how he used to spit out the skin of grapes, but now he likes it; and I know he wasn't really talking about grapes but I don't know what he meant, and I don't know why he does that, cos he knows – he must know – that I don't understand.

He was right in front of me. I could smell his aftershave, it was the same one he was wearing last time we... And I knew what his skin would feel like if I touched his face, I knew exactly how scratchy his stubble would feel just by looking at it, and I shouldn't be thinking things like that after everything he's done. He took a bite of one of them bloody grapes, and he held the other half of it out like he thought I was gonna eat it out of his fingers, and I hated him for it, and I hated myself for imagining doing it: just for a second I saw myself holding his hand and sucking the juice off his fingers and thumb, and waiting to see what he was gonna do next.

I hit his hand away, and I told him I've had people like him putting me down all my life, and I've had enough.

He made a joke of it, of me. I was so angry I could've cried, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction so I went, I left him there.

I had the last laugh anyway. I ran into Doug outside the cafe, and he's got the money for definite. He asked if I had any doubts, but why would I? We've actually got a chance of doing this. I couldn't help it, I just had to give Dougie a hug.

* * *

_Brendan_

I saw Douglas talking to Goldenballs. Unlikely as it seems, they're friends: Douglas the unemployed drugs rat, and Riley Costello the professional footballer. Adorable. Stands to reason, when you think about it, that Douglas was going to tap Riley for a loan. What are friends for?

I put a stop to it. There's only room for one third party in this venture, and that will be me. Just had a quiet word with Riley, reminded him that a responsible dad can't put his son's future in jeopardy with some risky investment. It was easy. The lad keeps his brains in his feet.

Got a text from Douglas soon after that. _Offer still open?_ I texted him back to meet me in the alley after dark. No reason, just for the drama of it – I like playing with him, see, always have done. He asked what the catch was when I met him there, and I said I'd have a little job for him; I just hadn't thought of it yet.

He badgered me: text messages; hanging around outside my club. There was time before the bids were due to close, so why the desperation? That's what I ask myself. In a rush to get your hands on the prize, Dougie boy?

The task I set him was nothing. A package to drop off – let him think it was drugs – and a payment to pick up. Don't know why I wanted to make him sweat, but I itched for it; even told him to eat the note I gave him with the location of the drop-off, and he did it too. I watched him, I watched him struggle and swallow it. He needs to be clear who calls the shots here. He needs to submit, and I need to know where he stands.

_Are you in?_ I asked him. _Or are you out?_

:::::::

Funny thing, when I saw Steven heading up the steps to my place, I thought he was going to see if I was at home. Why would he be? Jesus. I followed him up, and he wasn't at my door. He wasn't anywhere, and then I saw that the door of number one was ajar. I'm a fucking idiot: he'd gone in to Tony's, hadn't he.

I made him jump when I went in. He tried to lie his way out of it, but he's incapable – he'd have to get up early to get one over on me. Then he got defensive. I'm getting used to it now, the venom in him, the way his eyes burn black when he looks at me. I ignored it. He had a folder behind his back, and I asked what was in it, and he gave up then, told me what was going on. He'd found out that Tony's still gonna bid for the lease, and Steven wanted to know how much he was offering so they could beat it. Sensible, if you ask me. But he shouldn't be risking it. I asked him, is it worth doing time for? His kids losing their dad? He should leave it to me, I know how to take care of things like this. I told him he couldn't do it without me; I got the usual response. If he'd said okay, if he'd put that pride of his aside, I could have told him the money's from me, no more lies, no more secrets. But he doesn't get it. He thinks I interfere – _infect_ his life, is how he put it – because I'm only happy when I'm doing that. _Happy_? I don't even know what that means, except for moments of it that are scorched onto my memory, and they are all, every one of them, moments with him, when the fire in his eyes wasn't from hating me.

I should tell him, but he wouldn't believe me, so what's the point? So I told him in a round about way, and maybe he'll think about it later when he's on his own: maybe the penny will drop. I told him... I held this grape in my fingers, and I told him, _I used to hate the skin. I'd peel it off, keen to get to the good stuff underneath. _I never wanted the difficult stuff, the demanding stuff. I wanted him on my terms. I wanted to fuck him, and never mind what he needed from me, what he wanted me to be, how we'd deal with everyone else knowing; how I'd deal with needing him. _But now... now I love it. _I'll take him, all of him, the mess and the fear and the compromise. I'll take the tough stuff. I'll take complicated.

Think I made things worse. He didn't understand; I think he thought I was taking the piss, and he got riled up again, so then I _did _take the piss, told him Justin Bieber ought to play him in the movie of his hard life and times. He fucked off out of the flat.

Like I said, complicated.

I looked in the file. Seventy-five grand, Tony was planning on bidding. I grabbed another handful of grapes, and headed back to the club.

:::::::

Douglas's mission didn't go according to plan. The fella I paid to meet him for the "deal" came back and told me that the kid got jumped before the exchange took place – Douglas got punched in the gut and had his package nicked. Ouch.

Douglas came to see me, angry, desperation written all over him, and I couldn't... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this than he's letting on, and I think I know what it is, even if he doesn't know it himself yet. Denial's a powerful thing – I should know. I told him I don't like people taking things that don't belong to them, but I don't think he caught my drift. Oblique ain't really working for me; I should give it up.

It's laughable. Douglas is laughable, but I ain't laughing. _You're going to a lot of lengths for Steven_, I said to him: _Why? _He gave me some bullshit about not wanting to do these deals any more, the kind that get him beat up in the street. Hates it that much, does he, but he'll do it if it means getting that loan for Steven? For him and Steven.

He's bright, I'll give him that. He asked me if this was a set-up so he'd still owe me. Funnily enough, Dougie boy... And then he said, _If it is, you can keep your money. _He was raging. Usually, Douglas sucks it up. The only time I've seen him that angry before was when he thought it was me that took Rebecca from him. That was the love of his life, apparently, so fair play to him, I got why he was shooting his mouth off at me back then, but he didn't have that excuse this time, and I lost it with him. He doesn't get to decide about the money. We're past the point of no return, and the money's for Steven, not for him, and he knows that.

He fought back when I slammed him against the wall; tried to fight me off. That's new. He's normally... _stoical_. Stakes are higher for him now, are they? I let go of him when he calmed down, and I told him he could still have the money.

I'd got my solicitor to draw up this loan agreement. A load of legal jargon, and the clauses I required. _"... The Loan is granted for the sole purpose of the purchase of the Lease of the premises known as 'Cinergy' Oakdale Drive CH1 2LX in the names of Steven Hay and Douglas Carter (the Leaseholders)... On completion of the purchase, The Leaseholders will be jointly and severally liable under the terms of the Loan... The Lender shall retain the right to assign or reassign the ownership of the Lease as he sees fit upon agreement with one or both of the Leaseholders..."_

My solicitor wouldn't put his name to it, because it wouldn't stand up in a court of law; but the price was right so he drew it up for me anyway. Apparently it would require Steven's signature as well as Douglas's and mine to make it binding on the both of them, but Douglas didn't know that. He didn't even read it.

When he signed on the dotted line, I noticed he's a left-hander like me. Reckon that's not the only thing we got in common.

:::::::

I saw them in the village, the pair of them. Douglas must've been telling Steven they had the money for their dream. Steven looked happy, he _glowed_ with it, and I wished... I wished he knew it was me that believes in him and wants nothing but the best for him. I wished it was me stood there in the middle of the street with my arms around him, and his around me.


	3. Chapter 3

_Brendan_

Getting the lease for the deli almost didn't happen. Douglas tried to sabotage it: I guess he got cold feet, didn't fancy owing me that kind of money but he ought to know, you don't try and make a mug out of me. We had an understanding. We had a contract. I had a case of rosé Champagne on ice to celebrate our little deal, and I texted him to tell him so, when I told him to bid eighty grand to beat what Tony Hutchinson was offering. So imagine my surprise when he got the call from the agents saying our bid was unsuccessful.

They were there in my club, both of them, Steven and Douglas, when the call came in. Steven wanted me to hear it, he wanted me to witness the moment when he spread his wings to fly away from me, and I don't blame him for wanting that. I wanted it too. Not the flying away part, obviously, but just, you know, to see him happy from this thing that I'd helped him do, even though he didn't know I had a hand in it. When it didn't happen, he looked gutted. Humiliated. I could've killed Douglas for that.

When I got the Yank on his own, he tried to tell me that what he'd done was the right thing for the pair of them. I don't think so, Dougie boy. I reminded him he'd signed a contract, but he reckoned he could just hand me my money back and it would be over. _Look on the bright side_, he said, _Now you've got a whole case of pink Champagne to yourself._

It was rosé.

Douglas never was one to grasp the finer points. He didn't get that he didn't have a choice, because it wasn't about him, was it? It wasn't up to him whether they got that lease, because it wasn't for him.

I sorted it. Had a word with the agent; found out where he lived, and let him know it, and reminded him how precious his family was, his wife, his kids. Standard stuff. I pointed out how Tony's previous premises were torched by his little brother, meaning he wasn't the sort of fella a responsible agent would wish to deal with, winning bid or no winning bid. Jesus, I all but held his hand while he made the phone call to deliver the bad news to Tony. And I told him to deliver the _good_ news and the keys to Steven in person so Douglas couldn't back out of it. No more hiccups.

There was a party in the club that night, courtesy of Anne arranging it for Riley Costello's twenty-first. Big lad for twenty-one, but anyway. I didn't get involved, but I was around for some of the time. Steven and Douglas were meant to be doing the catering, and to be honest I wondered if they'd still show up after Douglas's stunt losing them the bid, but they did, even though they didn't know yet that I'd swung it for them. I admired that they had the guts, both of them: Douglas for turning up in my club knowing that I wasn't happy with him; and Steven for dusting himself off after another kick in the teeth.

I watched him, moving around in the crowds of D-listers and hangers-on, and I wanted –

He was wearing a white shirt.

When he left to go back up to Douglas's flat where they were making the food, I followed him; I went into mine to call the agent to tip him off, and he went straight round there to tell him the lease was his. Soon as I got the call to say he'd done it, I got a bottle of the rosé Champagne out of the fridge, and left it on the doorstep next door so Steven would see it when he came out. He deserved to celebrate. He deserves the good things. And it would be a message to Douglas that he can't win, not against me.

* * *

_Ste_

I think... I think Doug loves me.

I think that's why he was dead moody all the time we were getting the deli ready to open. I think that's why he made me sound brilliant when he wrote my profile for me for my online dating. I think it's why he slept with Texas when I had my second date with Adam, the bloke I met on the dating thing. I think it's why he showed up at the SU Bar when me and Adam were having our third date, and acted like a prick til Adam had had enough of him and went home.

We were mad busy. The deli was open, and we were doing food for a surprise birthday dinner that Cindy was doing for Tony, and we had a stall at the open day at the college, so I was making food for that as well, and I'd been working non-stop in the kitchen all day, and I just wanted to pack up and go and meet Adam to make up for the date that Doug ruined. Adam's really nice. He's well clever but he doesn't try and make me feel stupid. Plus, he's lush. And he's a good kisser, cos we kissed on our second date, didn't we. Like, proper kissed, and it was the first time for me since Brendan... So I was gonna leave Doug to it and go off and get ready for my date, but that was when Doug told me. Or didn't tell me, I don't know, it's confusing. He just went off on one, he said I don't care about him but he thinks about me all the time, and he said I shouldn't be spending all my time with Adam. That's bollocks though, cos I've been spending all my time in that bloody kitchen, so I said to him, _So we should be spending twenty-four hours a day together?_ And Doug said, _Yes. He doesn't love you._

And I said, _And what, you do, do you?_

He didn't answer. He just left. But I think... I think what he meant was, he loves me.

:::::::

I cancelled that date with Adam, but I met him for a drink the next day. My head was mashed, I'd been awake all night, thinking. I suppose Adam could see I had something on my mind, and he reckoned it was Doug. He said I couldn't get Doug out of my head.

So Adam dumped me. Nicely, but he dumped me.

He was right about Doug being in my head, but not like he meant. I don't even fancy him, me. I'm just trying to work things out, and I'm scared that we're not going to be able to work together any more now that he's said all them things. And I can't do it on my own. I need him. I can do the cooking and the talking to customers and that, but I can't do the things he does, the books and the bank and making deals with suppliers, and the – what d'you call it – PR. He's good at all that. What if he leaves? I'll be back to where I started, except I'll owe Doug's auntie all that money if I can't keep the business going.

I didn't even know Doug likes blokes. I did used to wonder about him and Brendan, though, now I think about it, cos Doug used to work for him, and he's Brendan's type, isn't he? And I know what Brendan's like. But I think I'd know. I think Doug would've told me, cos he talked about Brendan a bit when we were getting to be mates, he told me what he used to do for Brendan, and I reckon he would've said something if they'd ever, you know. Cos that's one of the things I like about Doug, the way he's dead straight with me. He's told me loads of stuff, about places he's been and things he's done, and his girlfriend that died, like we was proper mates; and I told him things too, about me kids, and how I learnt to cook at Tony's old restaurant, and... well, not much else really, cos there's things I want to forget more than talk about. He already knew about me and Brendan anyway. I think everyone does.

If he's got feelings for me, I think I might be the first for him. The first man, I mean. And if that's true then I know what he's going through. I can't get my head around why it's me though, out of all the lads he's ever met. It's not like he's fallen for a made-up profile on a dating site. It's not like he's a bit drunk and he's seen me in a bar and thinks he fancies me. Doug knows me, he knows who I am, the real me, and he still... he actually feels like that about _me_.

I'm gonna tell him, let's give it a go. I like him, don't I? We have a laugh, except when he's moody, and we're all moody sometimes aren't we? And I can't wait around for ever for someone who makes the world spin faster just by looking at me. Maybe that would happen with Dougie if we started, you know... but even if it didn't, maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe what Doug and me would have, would be better.

:::::::

I never got to tell Doug about Adam breaking up with me, or about me wanting me and him to try and see if we could be together. I was going to, but Doug got in first. He told me he wanted us to just be friends like before. So I never said anything, I just told him it was cool and we'd be like it never happened. I was a bit disappointed, cos it meant I'd got nobody again.

Only then, Doug found out that I wasn't with Adam any more, and I don't know what his problem was really, but we had this massive row in the back of the shop, and it ended up – I ended up kissing him. He kissed me back, but I think it must've been weird for him, or he's shy, but anyway I asked him if it was okay after, and he said it was more than okay, so I expect if he got a bit more used to it, it would feel more –

Anyway, somebody hammered on the door then. Doug had locked it when he came in, I suppose so we could have our row in peace. I came out of the back room and I went and opened up, cos Doug was a bit wobbly, and it was Brendan. I felt a bit guilty about what me and Doug had been doing, and then I felt annoyed with myself for feeling guilty, plus I was annoyed because Brendan hadn't even bothered to come in since we opened even though he lives two minutes away and works just over the road.

I don't know what he wanted. He didn't buy anything. He congratulated us, but I think he was being sarcastic; and he shook Doug's hand, then Doug went off to the cash and carry. I thought Brendan would stay then, but he didn't. He said he'd promised to take that lad Joel out for the afternoon.

Yeah, so Brendan's moved on then, looks like. Well, so have I.

:::::::

It didn't work out for me and Doug. That same day that we kissed, I held his hand in the deli, and he was okay with it until a customer started to come over, and then he pulled his hand away. And I can't do that again, I just can't. I won't be somebody's secret, and I told Doug that. I said he wasn't ready, and he needs to go and sort out what he really wants.

I didn't think he'd run out on me though. He left me on my own running the deli single-handed for weeks. I tried going round to his place but he wouldn't even open the door. Once, he came to the shop. Once. I had a go at him, cos I was tired out and stressed. I knew he had come out to Texas and Leanne, but Barney was in the shop with me, and Doug still wouldn't say it in front of him. So he went again.

I know I'm not being fair, and if it was just the being out thing I wouldn't be giving him such a hard time, but it's the way he just gave up on the business – our business – when he knows how much it means to me. It's okay for him, he's just got himself to think about, but I've got two kids relying on me. At least Brendan understood that.

Not that Brendan was around either. I thought he'd be bothering me, but he wasn't, not til that same day after Doug ran out on me again. I had a massive queue of customers, right, and then some bloke started having a moan cos he said his panini was cold. I know for a fact it wasn't, but whatever, Brendan was there all of a sudden and he did his big scary Irishman thing, and the bloke bottled it and went off. I said to Brendan that the customer is always right, but he said nobody ought to talk to me like that, and he said he would help me, you know, if anybody gave me any trouble. And then the next day he came in again, and he said he was keeping an eye on me.

Does that mean he cares about me, then? He's acting like he does, and I've started remembering things. The way he always wanted to help me out, giving me money for the kids or whatever, and maybe... maybe when he told me he would've given me the money to start the business, maybe it was true and he really would. And the way he used to be dead protective, like I belonged to him and he'd do anything to keep me safe... I said that to Amy once, when I was still with Brendan and she knew he'd been hitting me; I said that he made me feel safe. She thought I was mental, but it was true, Brendan made me feel safe from everything except from him, but when I told that to Amy she asked me if he ever, you know, _forced_ me to do anything. I told her, _Course not._ Cos that was when I was safest of all, with his arms around me or when I was lying underneath him and he was strong enough to do anything he wanted to do to me, he had that choice, and he always chose to do what I wanted too. I can remember what it felt like. It felt like there was nothing in the whole world except him and me, and it felt like I meant the world to him.

It wasn't those times I wasn't safe from him, it was the other times, when he wasn't loving me. That's what I've got to remember, or I'll be back there. If he'd have me back.

No. I've got to remember that when I felt like I belonged to him it was because he was possessive, and when he helped me out, it was because he wanted to control me, wasn't it? So when he called out to me when I was outside my deli and he was outside his club, and he said did I want to go and have a drink and tell him my troubles, I told him I didn't need his help. Everything about the deli is from my own hard work. I've made that place, from painting the walls to thinking up the menu. I'm not playing Brendan's games any more.

_Sorry you feel that way_, he said, and he looked... vulnerable, and I got that feeling in my chest that I don't want to get.

I can't. I won't go back there.

:::::::

Doug came back. He said he was sorry for abandoning me, but I didn't want to know. I bet he's been out clubbing with all his mates and sorting his head out about being gay, and all without needing me to help him.

Except, he said it was awful. And he said that in the end there was one reason he didn't give up: _And that was you._ And then he kissed me, and I kissed him back, and it was lovely, and maybe if I'm with him I'll stop thinking about Brendan, and maybe next time I hold Doug's hand, he'll let me, and that will be something that he can give me that Brendan never would.

* * *

_Brendan_

I've been letting things slide. Letting myself get distracted. Thought it was for the best if I took a back seat, you know, let him stand up on his own two feet and enjoy it, once I'd got him the shop. It's exciting, starting up a new venture. This was his time.

Them, I mean. Once I'd got _them_ the shop.

Anyhow. I had business to attend to. Made a little trip to Barcelona; not entirely business, I'll admit, but you have to take these opportunities when they arise, so to speak. There's this Moroccan lad over there that I've hooked up with once or twice. Kamal, his name is. Works in a bar. Not a stranger, see, because sometimes you just need something a bit familiar to hold on to for an hour or two.

Another distraction entailed a visit from a fella I met inside. A friend, you might say, only you'd be wrong. I _think_ you'd be wrong. He brought trouble with him, Simon Walker, but I've been feeling like there's something missing, I guess since I got Foxy out of the way. I've been feeling desiccated, and having Simon around, it got the juices flowing, kept me on my toes. I had to send him packing though over something that happened with my boy Joel. Joel got hurt – I mean, life-or-death kind of hurt – and if he'd... Anyways, Cheryl blamed me, and Simon took some of the heat off me for it, but he had to go.

So it's been a busy time. And one of the things I've let slide is Douglas.

Sliding is what things do when they are slippery.

I should've known. First time I called in to the deli, a few days after they opened, it was lunch time and the door was locked. When I knocked on it, I looked in the window and I saw them coming out of the door in the back, Steven then Douglas, and when Steven let me in there just was something about him, and I should have done something then. Don't know what, but there's always a way.

I reminded Douglas of our little secret, but to be honest I don't know who's got more to lose if Steven found out I put up the money, Douglas or me. I shook his hand, and it was clammy. Then I sent him out.

I dropped a hint to Steven, let him know that I was on to what they'd been up to in their back room. _It's a bit limp_, I told him. _His handshake. It's a bit limp._

But I just... I didn't believe it myself. Steven and _Douglas?_ Okay it's true that I've always thought Douglas wouldn't take much persuading. He's malleable. Whenever I've had him up against a wall close enough to hear his heart beating, close enough to kiss him if I wanted, he's never fought me off, at least not until the last time, and that was about the loan, or more to the point, about Steven. All those times before though, it was stoical resentment he gave me, I'd call it, and he must've known what I was thinking and yet it seemed to me it was violence that he was scared of, not anything else I might have in mind. He might have been amenable. Course, I'm just surmising. But Douglas and _Steven?_ What did Douglas have that he'd want? What would they even _do? _Jesus.

I guess that's why I let it slide: because it was so un-fucking-likely. Then I got embroiled in everything happening with Joel and with Walker, so I didn't go back to the deli until Chez told me that Steven had got himself a new man. Douglas had bailed on him though, apparently, so it didn't look like he was the man in question; but I needed to know.

I went round there, sorted out some prick giving Steven a hard time about his panini, for fucksake. He can't talk to Steven like that. Nobody can. I told Steven, he just needs to call me and I'm there. I ain't keeping a low profile any more, that's for sure. I called in on him the next day, and then the day after that I saw him outside and I asked him, straight out, if he wanted to come to the club so we could have a drink and a chat, you know: any problems with the business I could help him with; any troubles he wanted to share.

He put me right. He came marching over, fired up, shouting the odds. The gist was, he didn't want me anywhere near him or his business.

I'm sorry he felt that way.

I went back to the club and shut myself in the office with a whiskey. I had this memory, of another time when he was laying into me like that, frowning at me, pouting. I don't even remember what his problem was that time, it could've been anything. Something I'd done, obviously.

I remember the set of his jaw. I took a couple of paces so I was stood right in front of him, and I touched his face. He looked half like he was spoiling for a fight, and half like he wanted to be tamed – and that was the half that won. I stroked my thumb across his mouth. His lips were closed against me, but I pushed my thumb between them and pushed it against his teeth until he let me prise his jaws open, and then I pushed my thumb all the way in. His eyes were dark and they were shining, and they didn't leave mine. I felt his tongue curl around my thumb. His mouth was hot and wet.

I can remember the feel of his whisper of stubble against my palm. I can remember scratching his sideburn with my fingernails. I can remember him shutting his eyes, and inclining his head against my hand, and sucking. I can remember the pain in my balls from wanting him, and I can feel a pain again now, only this time it's in my chest.

:::::::

I look in through the window of the deli again, as I'm passing: I can still keep an eye on him, can't I? Even though he don't want to know. I look in through the window, and I see him, and I see Douglas, and they're kissing. Steven is kissing him like he wants him. Like he needs him. And I can feel that pain in my chest again.


	4. Chapter 4

_Brendan_

They're _out._ Steven and Douglas, they're out and proud. Every time I walk past that deli, or look down on it from the balcony of my club, they're all over each other. Laughing together; holding hands; intimate, conspiratorial. Love's young dream. Never mind that Douglas has been playing it straight all his life, what matters to Steven is that he ain't afraid now, he don't care who knows that they're a couple, he don't care who sees. And that's what makes him a better bet than me. Among other things, of course: the things I'm ashamed that I did. But it's the public thing that's the clincher for Steven, I think. That's what I never gave him, and Douglas does, and that's why Steven's fallen into this thing with him, this _relationship._ What else can it be? I've seen them kiss, and there's no passion there, no lust. Need, I'd call it. Not need as in, they need each other's bodies like they need to breathe. Need as in, who else have they got?

I guess they're fucking. Must be. It baffles me and it turns my stomach, but it's Douglas's bed that Steven's lying in, not mine, and it's not because Douglas knows how to start a tremor in Steven that shatters him into pieces and makes him come back together like he's someone new. Unless Douglas is a very dark horse, but... No, it's that other thing he gives him, and I can give it to him too if I have to, if that's what it's gonna take. I will give him his public love. I'm not saying I'm gonna hold his hand in the street – Jesus, we're not a couple of kids – but I'll do what he needs me to do. I will acknowledge him. Let the world see that he's mine, if that's so important to him. Christ, if it meant he was mine again, I'd let the world see me kiss him.

Jesus.

I just have to get Douglas out of the picture first.

:::::::

I went to the deli. Ordered a jam sandwich, and they didn't have a jar of jam in the place. Tut tut. Douglas was making an effort to be civilised, and he sent Steven off over to Price Slice to get the jam for me. And you know what? Steven remembered. I can't say he went with good grace – customer service skills need brushing up, he's a surly little fuck – but I was gonna remind him, _Make sure it's..._ and he remembered for himself. _Seedless._ And let's face it, he ought to remember, like I remember, one time we got sticky. Put it this way, you wouldn't wanna get seeds in the places I licked it out of, so.

I sat and watched Douglas working; I swear his hands were shaking.

Steven made my sandwich when he came back from the shop. His hands didn't shake. Steven's hands are sure and they are deft. Then he ran out again, said he had to go to the bank. Wanted to get away from me, more like. Fuck.

I took the opportunity to remind Douglas of our little financial arrangement, the one he's keeping from his partner, the secret I can blow up in Douglas's pretty face any time I like.

:::::::

Douglas bit the bullet himself. He must have told Steven about the loan soon as Steven got back from the bank, and by the looks of it, it didn't go down too well. I was on the Chez Chez balcony and I saw them come out of their shop, and I heard Steven tell him, crystal clear, _I'll never be able to trust you again. It's over._ Then Douglas said, _What's over?_ And Steven walked away.

What you gonna do now, Dougie boy? What am _I _gonna do?

* * *

_Ste_

How can he be so stupid? He knows what Brendan's like. He knows how long it's took me to get over Brendan, cos I've told Doug, haven't I? I've told him I haven't, you know, with anybody since that last time nearly a whole year ago. Doug knows – he ought to know – that this deli was meant to be my big chance to move on and make something of myself for me and my kids, and now he's ruined it, cos it's all been lies, and how am I meant to trust him now?

_He said he just wanted to see you happy_ – that's what Doug reckons Brendan told him, and if he believes that, he'll believe anything. If Brendan wanted to see me happy, he would've not sacked me from the club and he would've not punched me, and he would've not lied to me and used me and he would've not messed with my head every bloody time I've seen him since like god knows when.

I had a right go at Doug. I might've shoved him.

I did. I did shove him. He didn't come back at me though like Brendan did if I shoved him. Brendan could stop me. He could scare me into stopping, or once I tried to hit him and he got me in a headlock. Doug didn't even try, cos he's not the same as Brendan, except I realised he is, in one way. He wants to control me, doesn't he? He wants to interfere, and I'm done with that. So I walked out on Doug.

:::::::

Brendan came to the deli next day. He said he wanted a panini, but that's not what he wanted. Well, not just that.

I was on my own cos Doug hadn't shown up. I sort of don't blame him: I mean, I did tell him it's over, but we've still got to run the business or how are we gonna pay back the loan that he got us into?

I told Brendan to go, and he said how can I kick him out of his own business? Unbelievable. I asked him, _Why can't you just leave me alone, Brendan?_ I told him, _This place is mine, I've started it from nothing._ He just asked for his panini again like it's all one big joke to him, and I felt like... I felt pathetic, like I was gonna cry. He'd beaten me, I couldn't fight him any more. I asked him though, to just stop all his games. _Please, can they just stop now?_

_Yeah_, he said, and he looked like he only just realised what he's done to me. He looked sorry. Then he put this brown envelope down on the counter, and he said we need to talk when I've calmed down.

And then Doug walked in, with this big bunch of flowers. White ones, dunno what they were. What do I know about flowers?

Brendan said to him, _Who died?_ And then he just started laughing cos they were for me – Doug had bought flowers for me, and Brendan knew just from that that Doug didn't know me at all. Then Brendan went away.

I looked at Doug standing there with his flowers, and I didn't know why I ever thought we could be together. _I can't do this_, I said to him, and I picked up my stuff and Brendan's envelope and I walked out. Let Doug manage on his own for a bit.

:::::::

What Brendan had given me to read was a copy of the loan agreement that Doug had signed. I tried to read it all but it was... I couldn't understand it except bits of it. I got the general idea though: it looked like Brendan could do anything he wanted, in return for lending us the money.

I saw Cheryl, or she saw me cos I was sitting out with a coffee trying to work out what to do, if there was anything I _could _do. I thought she must know that Brendan had put up the money, because if Brendan's keeping secrets from me, and Doug is, why wouldn't Cheryl be doing it too? But she was surprised when I told her about it, so Brendan had kept it a secret from her as well as from me. Only, Cheryl gave him the benefit of the doubt. She reckoned I should talk to him. _Look, I know he can be difficult, okay_ – understatement of the bloody century – _But he's come this far without interfering. Maybe he wants to keep it that way._

So I let her talk me into going round there, to their place, to talk to him like he'd asked me to. And I tried, but he stopped me. He made out like he was busy, but he could do me a favour and fit me in at three-thirty. I know he just did it to play with me, so it's on his terms like everything always is. And then he said he'd book a meeting room in town to keep it official. _Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong impression. _I think he meant Cheryl, but he might've meant me. As if.

He sort of dismissed me then, and I went home. Then I thought, I didn't know where I was meant to be going for this meeting, so I texted him, _Meet 3.30 where?_ And he made me wait, but then I got a text back saying the address of the place. It was a hotel. And he said, _I'll pick you up at 3._ I texted straight back, _No thx. C U there_, and I put a kiss by mistake but luckily I realised in time so I deleted the _x_ then sent the message. Then I looked up the buses, and it was gonna take for bloody ever to get there, so I ended up getting ready in a big rush.

* * *

_Brendan_

Steven was late. I knew he would be, once he turned down my offer of a lift; he don't make things easy for himself, that boy. It was getting on for four o'clock when he was shown into the conference room where I was sat waiting for him.

I had a doctor once. Young lad – old enough to be qualified to work in a hospital, obviously, but still with the awkwardness of youth about him. He was living in our spare room. Lynsey and Chez both took a fancy to him, they were falling over themselves to catch his eye. It was embarrassing: he was embarrassed, Matthew was, I could tell. And I could tell that he was queer.

I talked to him, this doctor fella. He was an interesting guy, had a first class degree, knew the Latin names for everything and knew about all the ills and all the treatments and all the drugs and all the doses. And when I took him to bed, I stripped away all that learning, as easy as I stripped away his clothes. By the time I finished with him, he couldn't have told you what bone the hip bone's connected to, because there was no space left for anything of the mind: all he had was what I was giving him, the sensations, the pleasure, the thunder and the rush. The only thing he could remember was my name – I know that, because it's what he shouted into the pillow when I made him come. I'd made a learned man into the sum of his primitive parts, and I felt triumphant.

Steven wasn't like that. Steven never had that far to fall. He was always raw, the atavistic nature of him barely hidden at all if you knew how to get at it; and I knew from the start where to scratch. But when he walked into that conference room, he was different. He looked composed and controlled.

He was in a suit, for a start. Grey suit, blue tie, and a white shirt with a collar that grazed his Adam's apple when he swallowed. He'd taken it seriously, then; this was a business meeting, and there was nothing about him of the boy I'd chosen getting on for two years ago, a couple of years out of his teens and unsure of his place in a world that had done him no favours. This was a man who knew his own mind, if not his own value.

He sat down, made a big show of getting his folders and whatever out of his bag and placing them on the table in front of him, and he looked at me, level and clear like he was daring me to jerk him around. So I jerked him just a little: _You finished? _I said once he'd dropped his bag on the floor and was ready to talk. I told him I was gonna make him an offer that he could take or leave.

I could feel that his temper wasn't far from the surface, and that made me feel calmer, more in control. He reckoned I was loving this, but _Just so you know_, he said, _I'm not having you coming in on my business, okay?_

_I been in since the beginning, Steven._ A little jerk on his chain, and he was a little rattled, and he said he never would have agreed if he'd known. _But you did_, I said; and I'd got him on the back foot, and I didn't need to wind him up any more. I didn't _want_ to. There was a time and a place to tease him to make him squirm, but this wasn't it. I needed him to see the good I'd done for him, and to believe I was serious. _Now look what you have, a business worth fighting for. _And then I made him my offer: _I'll be silent partner. You run it, I won't get involved._

I watched his face, trying to work out what he was thinking, but all I could see was how beautiful he was.

He didn't believe what I was telling him, course he fucking didn't. So I dropped all the strategies, and I took him seriously, I listened to his points and I addressed them. He reckoned that I can't resist interfering in everything he does. I told him, _You didn't even know I was involved._ Cards on the table: _You've proven that you can run the place. I've left you alone and that won't change. You'll be in charge, no strings attached, I promise you._ And it was the god's honest truth. This was for him, for his future. It wasn't contingent on him coming back to me, although as I stood over him I could see the tiny moles on his neck beneath his ear and I remembered how they felt against the tip of my tongue, their barely perceptible rise on the smoothness of his skin, same as the ones on his chest and in the crease where his buttock meets the back of his thigh. And I thought maybe if things went well and I kept my word, he might start thinking of me differently, and then maybe...

* * *

_Ste_

I didn't think he would do that for me. _I'm older and wiser, Steven,_ he said, and it was true what he was saying, he hadn't tried to interfere with what the deli was like and how I ran it, just like Cheryl had said. And there was what Doug said to me ages ago when we were talking about how Brendan said he would've given me the money if I'd asked. _Maybe he feels like he owes you,_ Doug said_._ And when Doug told me who he'd got the loan from, what was it he said Brendan had told him? _He said he just wanted to see you happy._

Maybe it's all true.

And he was standing over me, and he seemed bigger than he used to be, and he was calm, and his voice was low and it sounded like it sounds when he knows we're gonna go to bed. _Used_ to. How it _used _to sound when he _used _to know we were gonna go to bed. I thought I could hear his heart beating; but it might've been mine.

_And if I sign this now, is that really it?_ I needed to know, if I was putting my trust in him again, that he was being straight with me this time.

_You won't hear a peep, so long as I get a return on my investment of course. _He smiled at me then. _Sign._

It's an investment. Brendan's invested in my business. I signed. And then he suggested a drink, to celebrate my freedom, he said. I told him no, because I hadn't had anything to eat.

_Let's get something to eat_, he said._ Toast the future. Yeah?_

I wasn't sure. I can't suddenly forget everything he's done, can I? Only, maybe he really has changed. I mean, he's just asked me to have dinner with him, and when has he ever done that before?

_Okay then._

:::::::

We left our things in the room, the paperwork and stuff, and we went downstairs to the hotel bar. I only wanted a coffee, not a proper drink, and Brendan had the same. He was relaxed and funny, you know, like he used to be sometimes, and I remembered things that I've tried to forget about along with the bad stuff. There was good stuff, see: me and Brendan used to have a laugh, didn't we, and that's the thing that no one else would ever understand, not Amy, not even Cheryl.

He went off out to the reception to book a table for dinner. I watched him go. When did his shoulders get so massive?

When you sleep with a girl, you're the strong one, even if you're skinny like me. That's how it is, you're the one that does the asking out, and when you're together, even if they let you know that they're up for a bit of, you know, it's still up to you to look after them and be gentle and not let go too much cos you're bigger than them and they're – well, they're a girl and you're a bloke, and you've not got to hurt them.

It was different with Brendan. Well, the what-goes-where bit was different, obviously, but that's not what I mean. I mean, the size of him, how strong he is, the feeling that he knew what he was doing and he knew what he wanted, and he knew how to do everything. And I didn't have to think when I was with him, when we were fucking. I could do what I wanted and I didn't have to worry, cos he was there, and he'd got me, and I didn't even know til I was with Brendan that I'd never in my life really truly let go before. I could let go with him, because he was there to catch me. That was when I came to life. The real me, I mean.

:::::::

He was sitting across the table from me in the hotel restaurant, and he had his jacket off, and his shirt was stretched tight across his chest. I tried not to look. I'm not going back to him: that wasn't what this was about. But I'd scared myself with the things I'd been thinking, because being that near to him was making me forget why we aren't together. I made myself put my guard up. I wasn't gonna make it easy for him.

I was right.

I didn't want the steak. Brendan said it was better than the fish, and he told the waiter we'd both have steak. I said no, and I ordered the salmon for me, only when it arrived it was steak for him, and steak for me. Brendan must've changed my order when he went off to the loo.

It was only a bloody steak, but it made me think, didn't it? If he thinks he can decide what I'm gonna have for my tea, what else does he think he can decide for me? So I said I was going to the toilet, and I got up and I found the waiter and I asked him, _Has Mr Brady booked a room for tonight?_ And he had.

And if he hadn't, if he'd left it and _we _decided, _both_ of us, that we wanted to stay the night, and then we _both_ decided to book a room, then maybe everything would be different now.

I asked for my things to be fetched down from the room, and I left Brendan behind, I left the hotel and I went to wait for the bus. How stupid does he think I am? If you ask me, I'm glad I found out now that he hasn't really changed, because what if I'd slept with him again? If he still thinks I'm the same person I used to be, then what's to stop him treating me the same as he used to? And I can't let him, because the more I love him, the more it hurts me when it all goes wrong.

I thought he might come looking for me while I was waiting for the bus. I let the first one go, but by the time the next one arrived I'd been there fifteen minutes and he hadn't tried to find me, so I gave up on him and got on the bus and went home.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Note _This is the final chapter of "Had". Thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who's commented.**

* * *

_Brendan_

I'm a fucking idiot. What's the matter with me? What was I _thinking_? Jesus.

Guess I wasn't thinking with my head.

I didn't plan it – well, not from the start. I didn't book the bedroom at the same time as I booked the conference room. I wasn't expecting him to be a pushover. Back in the day, maybe, but he's learnt the hard way that if he caves in and follows his dick, he's only gonna be hurt more when I let him down. Even though this time I wasn't gonna let him down; least, I don't think I was.

So I didn't book the room straight off. I didn't even think of it – okay, only in the abstract sense of how I always think about fucking him every time I fucking look at him – until after he signed the business agreement, and after he agreed to have a bite to eat with me, and after we'd gone down to the bar in the hotel to have a cup of coffee and he was looking at me like I wasn't an ogre, like he liked the sound of my voice, like we could get along how we used to get along between bouts. That's when I thought of it, and that's when I did it: I went out to the hotel reception desk, and I reserved a table in the restaurant, and I booked a room for the night. Champagne on ice, I asked for, and strawberries, to be sent up to the room. He likes strawberries, see, and I don't think he likes Champagne much but he likes the bubbles and it makes him, you know, sorta _giggly._ Yeah. So that's what I asked for.

His mood changed a bit when we went into the restaurant – I know that now, and I must've noticed at the time but I didn't take it into account. He was cautious again, suspicious, like he'd been at first in the conference room. He'd relaxed when we'd had that coffee in the bar before, but in the restaurant he was different. I don't know what it was. Maybe it felt too odd, _dîner à deux_, sitting face to face across a table, civilised; me not bolting even though this looked like a _date_. He thought I was up to something, I guess.

We ordered, and I tried to get him to change his mind and have the steak instead of the salmon, but he wouldn't listen, he stuck to his guns. Stubborn, he is, to his own detriment sometimes: I've had the fish before in that place, and it was dry, and I reckon they don't know how to cook it because there was some girl on the next table who'd got the salmon and she was just pushing it around her plate with a fork. I reckoned that Steven just didn't want to lose face in front of the waiter, so I got up to go to the toilet, and had a word with the waiter on the way; told him we'd both have the steak.

Steven didn't say anything when the food arrived, except to ask where the toilets were, and off he went. I sat there watching my dinner get cold. I could feel everyone staring at me and thinking to themselves, this poor bastard's been walked out on, and yeah, I worked it out when I'd been sat there for ten minutes like a spare prick at a wedding. They were right. Steven had fucked off and left me.

The wine tasted like vinegar, but I drank it. The steak was tough.

:::::::

I asked at the desk about Steven. Turned out, he'd had his things fetched down from where I'd had them taken up to. So he'd found out about the room, then. Fuck.

I wasn't going home. Couldn't drive for one thing, cos I'd had a bottle of red. And for another thing, I'd paid for the room, so.

The bar didn't have Irish whiskey. Yeah, my day just kept getting better. But I needed something because the wine had left a bitter taste, so I had a Scotch or two to burn it away, and I thought about Steven. What was his problem? What, did he think I was gonna force him to sleep with me and not give him a choice in the matter? Is that what he thinks of me? I ain't done that, ever, not with anyone else and not with him, and if he don't know that then what the fuck am I doing trying to help him out? If he thinks I'd take him when he doesn't want me?

There was a bunch of people in the bar, must've worked in the hotel because they had ID badges hanging around their necks. Noisy pricks. I was glad when they drifted off, all but a couple of them; and then another one of them left, and then there was one. He was talking to the barmaid, this last one was, and she was easy with him, you know, like the way Anne is easy with me, cos she knew he was queer so he wouldn't want anything from her. Plain as day.

He stood up, this lad. Tall, he was, same height as me. I stood up too and I read his badge: underneath the name of the hotel it said _Alex – Personal Trainer_.

I touched it – the badge – and I said, _You got a gym in this hotel, Alexander?_ And he said yeah, did I want to see it? And I said maybe sometime, but right now I wanted to find my room, and I held out my room key to the little barmaid, and she said, _228, that's on the second floor_, and then she arched her eyebrow at the personal trainer, and she said, _Maybe Alex can show you to the lift._

I think he blushed.

:::::::

I wanted to be angry.

I wanted a zipless fuck, no chat, no tomorrows, a rush of blood to drown out the thoughts I didn't want to be thinking. Only it didn't work out like that, not exactly. He saw the Champagne and the strawberries and he asked if I'd been expecting somebody, so I had to tell him, _Y__eah, but it didn't happen_. And then he said he knew the feeling, and, _Shall we?_ And he meant the Champagne, so yeah, we drank it, and he ate some of the strawberries but I didn't because of the fucking seeds, you know? And this lad, Alexander, he was _built_, but he had these skinny hips, and I gotta say, I fancied him. Or I fancied what he had that I wanted. And I had to listen to him jawing, and I was wishing for us both to be pissed enough so we could strip and fuck, hard, and I'd tell him to go and I'd sleep then, because I was so fucking tired. But there was something... He was just a kid, early twenties. Steven's age. And he had this body that was strong enough to take whatever I wanted to do to it, but his face was... There was a _sweetness _there that reminded_..._ And he had these little moles on his skin, on his arms, his chest, his neck.

What's the matter with me?

I wanted to be angry, but I didn't feel it, and I kissed him, and we fucked, and I let him sleep with me because, I dunno, sometimes you need to feel someone's body warm beside you just so you know you ain't dead. And if it's dark and your eyes are shut and you're half way between asleep and awake, you can kid yourself that the body's the one that was with you in your dream.

Couldn't get shot of him fast enough in the morning, though. Soon as he came out of the bathroom I told him to get dressed and go. It was check out time.

* * *

_Ste_

I was cold when I got home from the hotel. I don't know why, cos it's June and it wasn't even late. Standing around waiting for buses, I suppose.

The kids were in bed. I went and said goodnight to them, then I took my suit off and got into my trackies and a jumper. Amy made me some soup.

I didn't want to talk about it, but she knew something was wrong, and she made me tell her, and I ended up telling her all of it, all about Doug and how he'd lied to me about getting the loan from his auntie, and how I'd finished with him because of it. And about how it was Brendan's money, and about how I went to meet him to try and keep hold of my business, and how it went alright but then I found out he reckoned I was gonna go back to him tonight.

Amy couldn't believe it. _You weren't going to, were you?_ she said, and I said, _Amy! Course not. I walked out on him, didn't I._

_Good_, she said, _That man is bad news._

_I know._ I know, I know.

I felt really tired all of a sudden, proper exhausted like I could just curl up there on the sofa and not wake up. Then Amy asked me if I'm lonely, and I hadn't even thought about it, but she was right wasn't she? I could've had Adam, or I could've had Doug, or I could've had Brendan back; but I've got nobody again. I felt like if I said it I might cry, so I just nodded my head. _Oh, Ste_, she said,_ You've got me, our family, we're not going anywhere._ And she cuddled up to me, and it was lovely being, you know, close to someone. But it's not... it's not the same as when you need someone and when they put their arms around you they're strong and they're big and you feel like they're keeping you safe from everything that's not them.

Then Amy asked me, _Have you really burnt your boats with Doug?_ I don't know if I have or I haven't, but I can't trust him, can I? Not if he's already been lying to me. But Amy said I should give him another chance. _Look what you've achieved with him, you'd never have started your own business if you weren't good together, would you? I bet he thought he was doing the right thing, Ste, I bet he's sorry. What if people hadn't given _you_ another chance?_

_I s'pose._ And at least Dougie didn't expect me to just fall into bed with him. It's never even come up.

_And at least Doug doesn't punch you_, Amy said.

:::::::

There was this sort of festival party thing the next day, and Doug had told them we'd do a food stall there. I didn't even want to work with him because I needed to be on my own and I can't even think about him or anything, not when we've got so much to do. So I decided to stay and run the deli and do the food prep, and he could do the business at the stall; I asked Amy to go and help him out, and to tell him I wasn't coming so I didn't have to tell him myself.

Then Brendan came in. I was up to my eyes, and he walked in and he put a cup of coffee down on the counter for me. A latte with four sugars. He remembers.

_So, last night,_ he said, _Really not a fan of steak are you?_ And I wanted to laugh, but I stopped myself, because that's what he does, he says something funny or he looks at me and his eyes are... _soft._ And I want to forgive him, but I won't be taken in, not this time, because I know now that it's all a game to him. I told him I was onto him: _If you ain't in control, you ain't interested, are you?_ And I told him I didn't want his coffee. And he just went, no smart comeback or nothing. I watched him go. All he did was, he stopped on his way out and put the coffee down on the table by the door.

But then he came back a bit later, and he was sort of shook up, and he said he'd been thinking all night all on his own in that hotel room, and he said I was right about all his games and that he planned it all – the loan, the hotel – to get me back into his life. But that was the old him, he said. He wanted to change and put things right, he was starting over, and he wanted me to be with him. And he didn't ask for an answer, he didn't even, you know, try anything. He just turned around and left me to decide for myself.

It messed with my head, him being like that. I sat down and tried to think, but next minute, Doug came into the shop, and it was mental, he wanted to talk to me about _us_, like I didn't have enough on my mind already. He started saying all this stuff about how he was sorry and he didn't know what happiness was until I kissed him, and he only borrowed the money off Brendan for us, for our future. He was crying. He said he loved me. He said he needed me. He held my hand.

I told him to go. _Please_, I said, and he did. And I shut the shop behind him, because there was so much noise in my head and I felt like everyone was crowding in on me, and I needed some peace.

What if Brendan was telling the truth? What if he's realised that you're not meant to control people, not if you... Only he didn't say it, did he? He didn't say he loved me, not like Doug did. He didn't say he needed me because he doesn't, does he? I'm just another lad to him, I know I am cos I know about the other ones, or some of them anyway, Macca and that Vinnie one, and I don't know what the score is with Joel but I don't know what Brendan's doing with him if he isn't wanting to get him into bed. And I made myself think about what he's done to me, like Amy said, because he gets under my skin, Brendan, and if I let myself think about what he could be like if the bad bits went and the good bits stayed, then I'd be back with him, wouldn't I? And then if it was all lies, it would be too late.

What he said, it reminded me of that day last Summer when he opened his heart and told me he loved me and promised me everything that I'd ever wanted, and made me think I was important. And look how that turned out. I wanted to believe him so much back then, and I wanted _him_ so much, that I caved in, and every time I remember it I feel so _stupid_ – and I must be stupid, because even now I can't believe he didn't mean the things he said to me that day. Even now I make excuses for him.

Not any more. Brendan's life just goes on, doesn't it? With me or without me, his life goes on. But Doug's different. I _made_ a difference to him, and because of me he's confused and frightened and his life's falling apart, and I know he made a mistake by taking Brendan's money, but whose fault is that? Brendan gave him the loan because of me. It's my fault, everything that's gone wrong for Doug, and I'm the only one that can put it right. For once in my life, I can make someone happy, someone that loves me. Someone that needs me.

* * *

_Brendan_

He came to me. I was at the Chez Chez stand at the outdoor party that was going on, and he came to me and asked me if I'd meant what I'd said to him about changing.

_Every word._ Was I lying to him? I guess I was, in a way, at least about my dark night of the soul alone in that fucking hotel bed. But it was true that I'd done some thinking, it's just that I'd done some screwing too. The rest of it? It was the truth. I want to change, I am exhausted by the crap I deal out and the games I play; I want him to be with me, not for a night here and there when I want my fun, but by my side if I can hold my nerve. It's a big _if. _That's why I faked it. The emotion, I mean, when I laid it out to him – I faked it, and I was good, if I say so myself. I convinced him, didn't I? Only, the reason I was convincing was that I've done it before, on a Summer's day ten months ago, when every shred of it was real and raw and from a place inside of me I didn't know was there until he forced me to find it. And that – what happened after that, the wrecking it, the losing him – was the reason I had to _impersonate_ the feelings I showed him in my little speech at the deli this morning. Because if I let the walls crumble again, if I let myself _feel_ it like I felt it back then, how would I pick myself up again if he didn't want to take another chance on me?

_Every word._

_Okay then, _he said. Was that it? Months and months of fighting and bitching and hating, over in a few syllables.

I saw Douglas through the crowd, and I needed him to see this: that he'd lost, that I'd won, that this man in front of me had made his choice of his own free will.

I reached out and I touched Steven, lightly, my hand on the side of his neck, the razor-cut hairs on the back of his head prickling against the tips of my fingers; and I leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped me, shook me off before our lips touched. He didn't want it to be like before, he said. I wanted to ask him, how is this like before? When have I ever kissed you before in front of a hundred people, except that one time in the club when I had no choice and you didn't know what the fuck I was doing? But I didn't say anything. I listened to what he had to say, and he set out his terms. _I've gotta be equal,_ he said. _Either that control goes, or I do. _It was like he'd realised his own value for the first time. _Okay, Steven,_ I said, but he wasn't finished. He wanted me out of the deli completely, no more silent partner: he wanted it to be a hundred per cent his. Fine, whatever. Have the deli. Have the club if you want, have my fucking flat in Dublin, have any bloody thing. Only I had terms of my own, or one term, specifically: _And Douglas?_

He answered me with a kiss.

I wanted to grab him, pull him against me, feel his body again, dig my fingers into his flesh to mark him as mine. But I didn't. I let him kiss me and I barely touched him. I knew Douglas was watching, and he had to know that it was Steven that made the move, not me.

He tasted like he always did. His hands on my face felt like I remembered. His mouth was soft and confident, like it was the last time. And yet... there was something that wasn't right. This was what he'd always been after, wasn't it? Public love, no shame, no hiding or being hidden: all of that was what I'd never given him before. And yet, there was something in the way he kissed me that was equivocal. Something was missing.

When he broke the kiss I looked at him, searched his face to see if there was something there to be read, and there was – I think there was – but it was beyond my reach. I don't know, maybe he was scared and still didn't trust me quite. I guess that's understandable. I just had to prove to him that this time, he didn't need to be doubting me.

* * *

_Ste_

I knew I was doing the right thing. It was sensible, weren't it, choosing Doug over Brendan. The only problem was that getting with Doug wasn't going to sort out the money we owed, and Brendan would still be able to mess me about like he was the boss of me, and that's why I thought of a plan.

I'd practised in my head what I was going to say, on the way there to the festival thing, and I went to find Brendan, and I asked him if he meant what he said about changing, and he said he did. And I dunno, it was like he meant it, really and truly, but then he tried to kiss me and I knew that was what it was about, a few shags until he got bored of me and pushed me away again just for the challenge of seeing if I'd come back again after, like I always do. Did. Not any more.

I asked for the deli. And then I kissed him, and I felt something in the middle of me like a fire starting, like I always used to, only I'd forgotten til then what it felt like. I'd made myself forget, probably. And I had to make myself stop and push that feeling away again, because it felt amazing.

When I'm with Doug, when we decide we're ready to, you know, it might feel like that with him. Just because it's not, like, _instant_, it doesn't mean it won't be as good, does it? What d'you call it, a slow burn. Maybe that's gonna be even better. And even if it isn't, sex isn't everything. It's got to be better than I've had this past nearly a year, which is nothing. It's got to be better than that.

I saw Brendan again later on, over by the deli's stall, and that time _he_ kissed _me_. Like, proper grabbed me and kissed me, impatient, and I had to make him stop because I could've gone with him there and then. I felt his tongue, see, and I couldn't help it, I wanted to open my mouth and just let it happen. It would've been so easy. But I'm being strong, and I'm getting us out of debt, and I'm thinking of my future and my kids' futures, and I'm not gonna be depending on him, because my kids are depending on me and I can't take the risk. And he asked me, Brendan did, if I wanted him to do it now, sort out the deli for me. And I said to him, _How important is it to you?_ And he actually did it, he went and rang his solicitor to get the legal thing drawn up. It was like, it actually was that important to him. Like _I _was that important.

I had to tell Doug. I thought, if I tell him what I'm doing, then I'll have to go through with it, I can't change my mind. He'd gone from the festival, so I went back to the deli but he wasn't there either, it was locked up, and he wasn't answering his phone. So then I did something that meant I had to stick to my plan.

I found a bit of paper and I wrote a letter to Brendan. I just scribbled down loads of stuff, about how it's made me feel strong, the way he's been with me these past few days, like he wants me and like I matter like I've never mattered before, and about how he's never gonna see his eighty grand again. I was buzzing – I've never written things down before, how I feel and that, and it made me think of all the things that have happened to me and made me stronger. But when I read through what I'd wrote, it was like I was thanking him for what he's done for me. So I crossed some bits out, and I put in a bit about how he battered me, because that's the thing that makes the difference. He can be the most amazing, clever, funny man in the world, he can make my heart stop just by touching me, he can make me feel things that I didn't know I could feel, but he beat me up, and Doug never would.

I got out another bit of paper and copied the letter out neatly. _Dear Brendan, This is a love letter. I'm writing it because I'm happier than I've ever been. _I told him that what he's done has changed me. _You decided that you wanted me and claimed me as your own. _I said he treated me like a plaything. I said he beat all the self respect out of me until I didn't know who I was any more. _Do you know how long it takes to get over that? I started to wonder if that day would ever come. Well it turns out, it's today. Like I said, this is a love letter but it's not to you. Your money's gone. You'll never get it back. And that goes double for me._

I don't think I made any mistakes. I'm not very good with writing. Doug even got nasty with me about my spelling, but that was before he knew I was dyslexic, and I know he wouldn't be like that again now that he knows. It's funny, Brendan told me once that I wasn't clever enough to lie to him; well, he was wrong about that, and he's gonna find out.

My phone beeped and it was a text from Brendan. _Come to club._ _Solicitor on way. B._

I put the letter in an envelope and put it away under the counter, then I ran over to the club.

* * *

_Brendan_

I was so close. It was tantalising, and I was impatient. After that first kiss at the festival, I tried carrying on working at the club's stand there, but I couldn't get him out of my head: if I shut my eyes I could feel his touch. So I left the stall and I chased him down again, and I got a hold of him and I kissed him, and just for a second it was like it used to be, he did that thing where his mouth kind of melts and softens like he's offering me everything of him. But then he broke off again, and all I could do was ask if he wanted me to settle it now, the legal side of the deli. I guess he wanted to be sure I wasn't bullshitting.

I called my solicitor, agreed to pay him an arm and a leg to get the document expedited and brought to me. He rang me when he was on his way, and I headed to the club and texted Steven to meet me there. I thought he was still at the event, but he must've been at the deli because he was with me inside two minutes. I got us a drink: let him choose what he had, obviously, didn't try railroading him into having what I was having. He was reserved, contained. Didn't want to chat, and I didn't try and see if there was anything he did want to do. In any case, my man turned up with the agreement. It was a loan waiver: bottom line, I was giving up the right to my eighty grand.

Small price to pay. Not that I was buying him – in spite of what Steven suggested. No, what I was paying for was a clean slate, for both of us. Setting him free so he was free to come back to me. I told him I'll look after him. I promised.

I could hardly take my eyes off him.

He signed. I signed. The solicitor picked up his briefcase and left us to it, and before the guy was out the door I'd stood up and leaned across the table and kissed Steven, and felt his face tilt up to meet me, and I could taste the wet trace of beer on his bottom lip. And he broke away, again. Sensing a theme here. _Right, __Brendan_, he said, and he picked up the agreement and told me he had to get to work, seeing as he owned his own business now. I didn't argue with him. We got all the time in the world.

* * *

_Ste_

It was mad. I'd done it, and Brendan hadn't got a clue. I felt like I'd proved something, and I wanted him to know now, so that he'd see that I'm not the mug he's took me for, and so he'd look at me like he's impressed.

I'm not saying I need him to be impressed with me. Don't care what he thinks, do I.

I went back to my deli, and I locked the agreement away, and I got out the letter I'd wrote. Then I went out and ran up the steps to Brendan's flat, and it was my last chance to change my mind. I bent down and I slid it under the front door, and then... there was a taste on my lips, and I only just noticed cos it was so faint. Whiskey.

Then Texas came out of the next door flat, where Doug lives, and she made me jump so I stood up. I asked if she'd seen Doug, and she said he's gone. Left. And it was my fault, she told me it was. She said I should've not made him fall in love with me if I was in love with someone else. She meant Brendan, but what does she know? I'm sick and tired of everyone thinking they know what's going on in my head. And then she said I've broken him. Doug is broken because of me, and he's leaving because of me, and I can't let him do that. You can't, can you? You can't make someone go away from their home and everything they know and everyone they care about; not if you care about them at all.

I've got to stop him. I've got no choice any more. So I've left my letter where I've put it under Brendan's door, and I've gone to look for Doug.

* * *

_Brendan_

I had things to do at the club while it was quiet. Paperwork, you know, which I've been neglecting. So I took my whiskey into the office and got the books out and sat down at my desk.

It was a losing battle. Couldn't concentrate, could I? Not with him in my head, the possibility of him. Probability, I'd say, now that I've kissed him again and he's kissed me, although I ain't kidding myself that it's gonna be easy – the getting of him, or the figuring it out after. It's new territory.

I admitted defeat, closed the files, put down my pen, and remembered. I've been scared to, you know? Scared to spend too much time remembering what it was like being with him, because I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life being without him. But now... I remembered the last time, last Summer, the details of it, and for the first time I let it all flood back. He kissed me, didn't he. When I asked him to give me a chance, when I promised him I'd be the man he wanted me to be, his answer wasn't words, because we were never much good with words, him and me, because words were difficult and this was easy. His hands on me, his mouth, the heat of him driving me across the room til my back hit the wall and I heard the sound I made, and his mouth crashed onto mine again: that was easy. I dragged his shirt off over his head and pulled him close and felt the skin of his back under the palms of my hands, and I'd forgotten how close the bones in him were to the surface, like there was no part of him that I couldn't reach. His skin, his bones, the pulse in the hollow of his collar bone, his heart hammering in rhythm with mine as I crushed him against me.

I remember, he struggled and I thought he'd changed his mind, and I loosened my grip on him; but what he wanted was to get his hands free to unbutton my shirt, and when he'd done it he pressed us together again, chest to chest with nothing in the way, and I felt his lips on my neck, and his tongue and his teeth. And then he was on his knees, unbuckling me and unzipping, and grabbing my cock out of my boxers, and his fist was wrapped tight around the root, and I was in his mouth and he was sucking so hard it hurt. Jesus. I shut my eyes and leaned back against the wall, and I got hold of a fistful of his hair, and I could feel him breathing through his nose, and I could hear the noises he was making deep in his throat. I could _feel_ the noises.

I wanted to fuck him. I hoisted him up by his armpits and I started to unbutton his jeans, but he said, _I've just got to – _and he went upstairs to the bathroom to sort himself out. I watched him go, and I felt my hands damp from the sweat from under his arms, and I licked it off my fingers to get the taste of him. Then I went to my room and grabbed the condoms and lube from the back of the drawer, and I came back to the living room and stripped off and put on a rubber, and then he appeared on the stairs. He was naked except for his socks. I smiled, couldn't help it, and I went to him on the stairs and took the bundle of his clothes from his arms and flung them somewhere, and I kissed his belly and reached around him. His arse was wet from where he'd washed but not dried himself, and he gasped when my finger went in, and then I turned him around so he was face down on the stairs. I remember his hand gripping the stair rod, his knuckles white, as I opened him and eased inside. I remember the hair on the back of his head looked like it was standing on end, and I remember his shoulder blades looked like folded wings. I remember him screaming my name as he came, and I remember his body flopped like a rag doll when I stood back up and wrapped him in my arms.

I remember seeing his cum dripping off the stair; I wiped it with my hand and wiped my hand on his stomach, and he said _Oi_, like he was indignant, and I laughed. And then I stood him in front of me, and I stepped back and looked at him. He had red marks on his knees and his elbows and across his ribs from where the edges of the stairs had dug into him. I kissed the marks, each one of them, and I can remember his fingers combing through my hair as I did it. And when I was on the floor, I peeled his socks off him, one then the other; he held onto my shoulders for balance. I jabbed my thumb into the sole of one of his feet to see his toes spasm and to hear him yelp. And then I turned him away from me and I bent him over the back of the sofa.

The taste of him when I rimmed him: I remember that. The mix of it. The aftertaste of the condom, more like a smell than a taste. The lube, kind of sickly, synthetic. And when I pushed my tongue in, deep as I could, the taste of _him_, muddy and bitter and raw.

We wore each other out. Seemed to me, he hadn't been getting what he wanted from that boyfriend of his, the one I'd taken him from, Noah. And I'd had my share of lads, sure, but nothing like this, like him, and we couldn't get enough of each other. Even when I thought I was done, if you see what I mean, and I was lying flat out on the sofa, Steven had other ideas. He worked on me, got me up again, slid onto me til I was balls deep in him, and I jerked him off as he rode me.

Don't know how long we had together. I remember saying we'd better get dressed cos I didn't know when Cheryl would be back, only I don't think either of us cared or believed that the outside world had anything to do with us, because we only got as far as putting our boxers on and then we were on each other again, back on the sofa, him sucking on my tongue, my hand down his pants with a fistful of balls, fooling around like a couple of teenagers til we slid onto the floor and sat there, my arm around him, the sweat drying on us.

That was enough remembering: everything after that could stay forgotten. I finished my whiskey.

No paperwork was gonna get done, obviously. I locked up the club and headed off.

:::::::

There's something been pushed under my front door when I walk up to the flat. I bend down and get hold of it and slide it out. It's an envelope, a red one. Rose red. Blood red.

My name's written on it, and I recognise the writing – it's Steven's. Funny: not much of a one for writing, is Steven. I open it and start reading.

_Dear Brendan, This is a love letter. I'm writing it because I'm happier than I've ever been._

And a world of possibilities opens up, a glimpse of a future I never imagined I could have. A future I didn't even know I wanted, not til now. Not til him.

I carry on reading.


End file.
